


tell me why my gods look like you (and tell me why it’s wrong)

by irwens



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irwens/pseuds/irwens
Summary: joohyun waits tables. seungwan is a cook. they work at the same restaurant.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89
Collections: Sonshine Prose





	tell me why my gods look like you (and tell me why it’s wrong)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ddeungwannie (galaxygerbil)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxygerbil/gifts).



> happy belated birthday ace

when she rounds the corner, face flushed and dripping with sweat, her sneakers immediately hit the asphalt as she pounds up the incline, not slowing down the slightest. only once she reaches the top of the hill and catches sight of the employee's back entrance does she stumble to a halt, bending over and panting harshly, feeling the airtight coil around her ribs at last loosen.

“four minutes early, joohyun, this might be a new record,” comes an amused voice nearby.

joohyun looks up to see seungwan’s smile, a cool glass of water in her hand. there are water droplets glistening along its surface and ice cubes clinking together, and joohyun eyes it intensely enough for seungwan to gently push the glass into her hands, laughing. “drink. it’s for you.”

“thank you,” joohyun quietly says several desperate mouthfuls of water later. a quick glance at her watch confirms that seungwan is right, but now she’s down to two minutes. joohyun bites her lip, hesitant. “i should get going.” 

seungwan only nods, watching joohyun down the rest of the glass before taking it back. “it’s a slow day today, not too many people. so no rush,” she informs her, and joohyun knows her well enough to understand. she offers seungwan a small smile, tries to visibly relax her shoulders. then turns to leave.

when she notices seungwan isn’t following, joohyun pauses at the entrance, questioning. but seungwan only waves her away with a hand as she says, “go first, i’m on break.” 

“do you always take your breaks at this time?” joohyun muses out loud.

“maybe if you come to work at a different hour, you can find out,” seungwan says with a cheeky grin. it’s followed by an exaggerated wink. “but you have to tell me what time beforehand.” 

joohyun huffs out a laugh. “greasy,” she mutters, stepping into the hallway.

“you love it!” she hears from outside right before the door swings shut, and joohyun heads to the lockers with the echoes of a tinkling laughter in her head, footsteps feeling light and easy.

. . .

they don’t work in the same area, but the restaurant still runs on coordination. inevitably, there are brief moments to watch each other in action.

seungwan works the kitchens and prepares each plate of food, joohyun delivers the dishes out to their respective tables. it’s like clockwork, back and forth, again and again. they make eye contact when seungwan slides plates over the line counter into joohyun’s waiting hands, and joohyun accepts them with a nod before whisking them away. she can feel the way seungwan’s eyes linger after her as she turns her back, but she doesn’t have time to think further about it when she’s focused on balancing dishes in her hands, herself in heels. 

it’s a high-end restaurant with fancy, gourmet food and even more expensive customers; joohyun can’t afford to lose this job when it pays her too well. still, it’s tiring, and she knows, of course, that it’s not just because of this work.

whenever she meets seungwan’s encouraging smiles and calm, unwavering gaze though, she thinks it gets a little easier. even during the most hectic hours of the day, with orders upon orders to take and deliver, with her manager’s voice growing strained and threateningly tense, seungwan is always a constant, an anchor that keeps her grounded. fingers drumming the line counter, eyes holding her steady as she looks into them. reminding her that it’s okay to breathe.

. . .

at ten thirty evening sharp, the bus pulls in and lingers at the stop for a few minutes. when no one boards, the doors eventually slide shut, only for a hand to smack against the glass a second later, seungwan panting and grinning apologetically as it reluctantly reopens. “i’m so sorry, sir,” she says, running a hand through her hair, patting down her fringe. “this is my friend’s bus, she’s just a bit slow.”

joohyun barrels into view before the driver can reply, halting at the doors and taking in lungfuls of air. she glances over at seungwan, who frustratingly looks less out of breath than she feels.

“longer legs and still slower, huh,” seungwan teases, before she lets out an “oof” when joohyun elbows her in the stomach. she boards the bus with a sheepish duck of her head to the driver, not looking back as seungwan laughs behind her.

when she settles down in an empty seat near the front, there’s a thunk against the window that causes her to turn, making eye contact with seungwan through the glass. seungwan beams at her for a moment before waving wildly. joohyun’s lips twitch as she fails to hide her amusement.

even as the bus slowly rolls away from the stop, she can’t help pressing her head against the window to watch seungwan’s disappearing figure in the distance.

. . .

three hours into her shift, joohyun feels like dead weight. she’d had a test today in chemistry that she’d completely forgotten to study for; turning it in at the end of class had made her feel like utter shit. not to mention she has a night at the convenience store again later. she really, really just wants to go home and sleep for a few months.

as she’s dropping dirty dishes off into the sink, biting her lip and trying not to drag her feet, she hears someone behind her clear their throat before speaking up. “joohyun, can you help me bring in some of the drop-offs from outside?” 

joohyun spins around, murmuring a soft affirmative, before narrowing her eyes when she sees seungwan wiping her hands on her uniform’s apron as she approaches.

the sous chef across the room also looks up from her work to squint at seungwan. “don’t you want to ask one of the guys, wan?” she asks, not unkindly. 

seungwan shakes her head with a smile, gently nudging joohyun forward as she leads them toward the back exit. “no, it’s fine! i’m sure she’s stronger than she looks,” she chuckles, and joohyun hears the sous chef snort in exasperation. joohyun echoes the sound in her head. 

“sit down for a minute, joohyun,” seungwan tells her when they’re outside, but she’s already prodding her to take a seat at the wooden table, effortlessly ignoring her confused protests. seungwan reaches over her then toward a little nearby plate, lifting the dish cover to reveal two freshly baked egg tarts. joohyun blinks at it for a few seconds before seungwan pushes it closer to her invitingly. “can you rate these for me?” she asks innocently, stepping back.

clearly, seungwan brought her out here for an entirely different kind of “help,” joohyun thinks as she takes in seungwan’s easy maneuvering of the supply boxes, her absentminded humming. another glance at the plate of egg tarts makes her stomach growl as she suddenly remembers how little lunch she had consumed today: she’d felt too nauseous to really eat after the test. 

resigned, joohyun carefully picks one of the pastries up before taking a bite of it. out of the corner of her eye, she can see seungwan pausing with an armload of supplies to watch her.

it’s still warm in her mouth, but not enough to burn. the custard is creamy, thick, the crust perfectly crisp and baked. for the second time today, joohyun almost dies, but it’s in a much more pleasant way.

“how is it?” seungwan murmurs after a moment, pulling joohyun out of her thoughts. her eyes flutter open, taking in seungwan’s hopeful, expectant look.

joohyun swallows, licks her lips. almost flushes at the way seungwan’s gaze flickers downward before snapping back up to her eyes again. “i don’t think i want any more,” joohyun says, and she watches as seungwan’s expression falls, her shoulders sagging.

joohyun bites her lip, trying to stay still, but then she coughs into her fist, looking away. slowly, she takes another bite of the egg tart.

seungwan eyes her movements, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as joohyun chews. it’s only once she’s finished another mouthful that realization seems to dawn on seungwan, and joohyun has to fight back a full-blown laugh as seungwan’s look turns from perplexed to shocked and offended, placing the box down at her feet. “hey!” seungwan exclaims indignantly, and joohyun shakes her head to keep from choking on pastry through her snickers.

“i  _ really _ don’t want any more,” she says, pointedly taking another big bite. seungwan just huffs and pouts, almost stomping her feet, which just makes joohyun laugh even harder. seungwan looks too amused to properly act angry any longer; joohyun can see the hint of a pleased grin on her face as she turns back to the supply boxes.

suddenly, her day feels a lot brighter than before.

. . .

it’s on a rainy day that joohyun finally gets it.

she’s standing beneath the overhang, trying to recall if a person gets wetter walking or running in the rain when seungwan appears by her side, causing her to yelp in surprise and startle back a step. seungwan shoots her an apologetic look, a balancing hand briefly grasping at her elbow before it falls away. joohyun can feel the lingering warmth of her touch through her sleeve. 

“what’s on your mind?” seungwan asks curiously, following her gaze to stare out at the downpour before them.

“is it better to walk or run in the rain?” joohyun mumbles, shuffling her feet. her shoes are battered, old and frayed. they’re going to drown in the rainwater before she does. 

seungwan chuckles. “how about neither,” she suggests, and that’s when joohyun notices the blue umbrella in her hand as it pops open above seungwan’s head. seungwan offers her arm, and after a quick pause, joohyun moves forward to hug onto it.

the walk to the bus stop is surprisingly quiet, as seungwan doesn’t seem intent on keeping up an amiable stream of chatter like she sometimes tends to do. instead, joohyun watches her out of the corner of her eye, taking in the defined slope of her nose, the little jut of her lip. up close, with their shoulders brushing against one another with every step, joohyun can count each individual eyelash in a way that feels too intimate, too close to a realization that she suddenly understands. 

looking at her, feeling the warmth seungwan always radiates in just her simple presence alone, something in joohyun finally shifts into place. a slight, subtle click, but one nonetheless.

“will you let me walk you home today?” seungwan asks softly after nothing but the sound of pitter patter, the rumble of cars splashing along the road. 

it’s like rainfall, always returning to the earth. clockwork. she suddenly understands the inevitably of this all.

when she meets seungwan’s eyes, joohyun can see the tenderness in them, the depth of feeling joohyun knows is reflected somewhere inside herself, fluttering against her ribs, yearning to blossom free. 

painfully, joohyun tears her gaze away. a heavy lump forms in her throat as she catches the crestfallen look that flits across seungwan’s face before it smooths out into something carefully blank, deliberately masked. joohyun forces herself to swallow. she whispers, “maybe next time.”

seungwan gently bumps their shoulders together in acknowledgement, in reassurance joohyun feels she doesn’t deserve. “i think running helps keep you drier,” seungwan comments, her voice measured and unnervingly calm. 

the bus arrives then, and the chill seeps in like a flood as joohyun lets go of seungwan’s arm. in the loss of warmth, the cold always feels the strongest. joohyun blinks once, twice, before seungwan gives her a little wave, and then joohyun is boarding the bus and being whisked away.

when joohyun gets off at her stop, she walks the rest of the way home, sneakers overfilling in the rain.

. . .

things change between them afterwards, and joohyun is still deciding whether it’s for better or worse.

the next time joohyun arrives at work, only slightly out of breath for once, seungwan is there as usual, a glass of water in hand and a plate of little pies in the other. the welcoming smile she gives joohyun is the same. it’s only different when joohyun slides her gaze away before they can meet hers.

joohyun watches the shine in seungwan’s eyes dim subtly, faintly. feels her own throat constrict from more than just dryness. 

still smiling, seungwan carefully sets the glass and plate down on the table. “three minutes, joohyun,” she says in a soft voice. the door swings quietly shut behind her as she leaves.

. . .

work carries on. joohyun throws herself into her studies with ruthlessness, studying when she isn’t asleep, sleeping when she isn’t working. if she makes something out of herself, maybe she will have a little worth, a little more to give at the end of all of this, is her hope.

focusing on school distracts her from the empty distance that has rooted itself between her and seungwan. because if she lingers too long on the look in seungwan’s eyes, she’ll be forced to confront the unsaid words and poorly concealed feelings hovering between them. 

regrets comes in the regularity that seungan still offers her time after time again. the plates of little snacks, the waiting glass of water; the refusal to look anywhere but at joohyun’s eyes when they meet at the line counter; the subtle, trailing presence in the distance behind her as joohyun walks to the bus stop.

seungwan is still there for her, even if the pastries are a little cooler and the ice cubes have long melted. and it hurts.

. . .

later, when she quietly pads past the staff break room after having changed into her uniform, she catches a glimpse of seungwan through the crack in the door, seated among the other servers and cooks, laughing. 

for the first time in a long, miserable while, she wonders if she’s finally made the right decision.

. . .

the first to notice is seungwan, and she really shouldn’t be so surprised.

“you’re limping,” seungwan whispers, gently catching her by the elbow before she can escape past the kitchens. the touch burns in a way joohyun has missed, but seungwan lets go quickly after, the jerk of her fingers regretful and apologetic. 

joohyun keeps her gaze trained forward, studiously avoiding the opportunity to look at her. “i know. i fell,” joohyun replies, and it sounds rough enough in her ears to make her wince. she tries to soften her voice, adding reassuringly, “i’m fine, seungwan.”

there’s a beat of silence where she thinks seungwan is finally done, and she’s about to gently step away from her, return to the front of the restaurant where her station is. but then she hears the way seungwan inhales sharply, breathes out slowly and shakily. joohyun’s eyes immediately snap toward her, and she feels all of a sudden too frozen by the sight of seungwan blinking back unshed tears.

“joohyun,” seungwan says tiredly, but then breaks off the rest of her sentence, falling silent once again. when she’s the one that steps back, joohyun is the one that reaches forward, fingers catching frantically at her sleeve. immediately, seungwan stills.

“can i help you move the supply boxes outside?” joohyun asks tentatively, pleadingly.

for a moment, seungwan just stares at her. “you’re hurt,” she murmurs in protest.

joohyun gives her a weak, little smile. “i’m stronger than i look.” 

seungwan blinks, then huffs out a laugh. the sound causes joohyun’s breath to catch in her throat, her ribs constricting in a way that aches. but she doesn’t waver, following seungwan down the hallway toward the back exit. and when they’re outside, joohyun takes a seat at the table before seungwan can say anything, and her breathing only hitches in the slightest bit when seungwan settles down beside her, leaving a polite, foreign distance between them. after all this time, it’s both too much and too little space.

“was it on the way here?” seungwan asks eventually, taking in her bandaged knee, just below the hem of her skirt. 

joohyun follows her gaze. “yeah. i tripped. it’s just a scrape, though.” her stupid, stupid shoes.

“there are bandages in the locker room. and you washed it and applied ointment?”

joohyun hums, nods, watches out of the corner of her vision as seungwan exhales in relief, leaning back against the table. it grows silent between them, different in a way than it recently has been, as they sit beneath the shade of the nearby tree; this time they’re next to each other, and joohyun is helpless to do anything but feel how right it is to be here, in the presence of seungwan. 

joohyun looks down at her hands. “seungwan,” she begins quietly, feeling seungwan’s gaze slowly swivel toward her. she recalls the stricken look on her face, the glimmer in her eyes beneath the kitchen lights. “i’m so sorry for everything.”

seungwan lets loose a shuddery breath. “there’s nothing to apologize for,” she reassures. she smiles faintly, uncertainly. “i just. wish you would let me care for you.” 

“that’s the problem though,” joohyun whispers, pained. “i can’t do the same for you. i haven’t. i don’t know how to return all that you’ve given me.”

everything is unraveling now, as if it was always bound to. like rainfall. like clockwork. seungwan just looks at her patiently, and joohyun pushes forward, letting all her spilled feelings go. “i can’t buy you anything when i’m barely scraping by. i can’t make time for you when i’m always running late. i can’t be there for you when i’m not enough.”

“i don’t care for that, nor expect any of that from you. i think you’re enough,” seungwan gently says.

joohyun adamantly shakes her head. “i have baggage,” she protests. “i haven’t talked to my family ever since i moved out. you deserve someone better, seungwan.”

“everyone has their own set of problems, including me,” seungwan murmurs. “and we’ll solve them with time. but . . . i think i can decide on my own who i deserve.”

joohyun’s shoulders sag, and she squeezes her hands into fists. “i know.” 

seungwan gives her a wry look. slowly, her hand reaches out to envelope joohyun’s; after a moment, joohyun loosens her grip, acquiescing. “there’s no ideal. i’m not looking for anyone else but you, joohyun.” 

seungwan’s hand is warm like always, warm like the rest of her. and joohyun so badly wants to lean into it, because she’s never felt so at ease and so right when with seungwan. seungwan, who she wishes she could still do better for.

joohyun looks down at her lap, at the thumb that traces so delicately over her knuckles. “will you give me some time?” she asks in a whisper. 

seungwan, patient and steadfast, only pats her hand with a tender expression. “of course.”

. . .

“five minutes. new record, joohyun,” seungwan laughs as joohyun treks carefully up the incline. her hands are in the pockets of her apron as she rocks back and forth on her heels. 

it’s a bright day, the sun warm on the back of her neck, remedied by the light breeze swaying the trees above them. joohyun’s smile feels unburdened as she locks eyes with seungwan, coming to a halt before her. “i’m working fewer days at the convenience store now,” she confesses.

seungwan tilts her head, gauging. “that’s good,” she answers softly. “you’ll be okay though?”

joohyun nods, and seungwan doesn’t push any further. 

“i left you some anpan and water over there,” seungwan says after a pause, pointing behind her toward the table. she turns, ready to head inside. “take your time, okay?”

she’s stopped by a gentle hand catching hers, and seungwan looks back in surprise, seeing joohyun brushing their palms together. feeling the warmth shared between their skin. inevitable, is what joohyun thinks, taking in the way their fingers have entwined. her heart thunders inside her chest. 

“wait for me?” joohyun asks eventually, voice hopeful.

seungwan takes the three steps back to her with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> \- some of this was partly inspired by the age of youth kdrama.  
> \- lyric title song: “1950” by king princess
> 
> other fics in this challenge: 
> 
> 8moons2stars: [x](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Wendies/works/22559776)
> 
> birdmint: coming soon
> 
> ChaseTheSun: [x](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597858)
> 
> galaxygerbil: [x](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597495)
> 
> hope you enjoyed!  
> tumblr is @irwen-s  
> twitter: @irwen_s


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